The Ashes of Mar Sara
by Hand of Zarquon
Summary: A squad of Confederate marines investigates claims of some strange happenings at a warehouse in the capital city of Mar Sara.


THE ASHES OF MAR SARA  
  
"Look alive, gentlemen."  
  
The cramped barracks room in the capital city of Mar Sara was suddenly filled with a brilliant white as Jeremy Higgins flipped on the light switch. Cries of protest arose from the four men, rudely awoken, as they rubbed their eyes and sat up.  
  
"Sarge…what the hell?" Anton Muller glanced sleepily at the chronometer as he climbed down from his bunk. "It's…two AM."  
  
Higgins shrugged. "Some guy reported some weird noises in his warehouse, downtown. You know how it is nowadays. Everyone's paranoid since Chau Sara got hit by the aliens. He demands that someone send a squad of militia in, he won't even unlock the place for the cops."  
  
Dominic Allen snorted. "And I guess we're that squad, huh. Figures."  
  
"Man, sarge," protested Morgan Hyde, running his hand through his hair, "I was just having a dream about me and this beautiful girl…"  
  
His bunkmate, Nick Sewall, laughed. "Shoulda let him sleep, Sarge, that's the only time he gets any." The marines, including Higgins, laughed, as Morgan glared down at Nick.  
  
"Shut up, Nick."  
  
"All right, gentlemen, enough. I want the four of you in the conference room in ten minutes."  
  
* * *  
  
Still half-asleep, but uniformed, the four men filed into the conference room. Higgins was already seated around the table, along with a pale, balding man in a dark blue uniform with a purple collar that identified him as part of Nova Squadron, the Confederacy's black operations division. The four grunts exchanged nervous looks as they entered. Sergeant Higgins motioned them to sit down, and as they did the Nova Squadron man stood up and faced the troops.  
  
"Gentlemen, I am Captain James Fields of Nova Squadron, and I am temporarily in charge of the city's militia. As your squad leader has probably already told you, you are being sent into the warehouse district to investigate claims of noises and such. The warehouse," he said, gesturing to the map displayed on the room's viewscreen, "on the outskirts of the city. It houses various chemicals for industrial purposes. For this mission you are authorized to use any force necessary should you encounter any hostiles. If you do need to fire your weapons, however, be careful as some of the chemicals may be toxic or flammable."  
  
"With all due respect, sir," interrupted Dominic, "this guy is probably some lunatic afraid of his own shadow. It's probably some heating duct making the noise."  
  
"Is this about the rebel movement, that Mengsk guy?" asked Morgan.  
  
"Or does it have to do with those aliens on Chau Sara?" added Nick. "Not the Protoss…but the other ones. I heard some of 'em are as big as a tank, and have these huge blades instead of arms…"  
  
"Enough!" shouted the Captain. He steadied himself for a moment, took a breath, and then continued. "You are to go to the warehouse, investigate the claims, and come back and make a full report. That is all you need to know." He glared at the two marines that spoke. "What you heard are just rumors, and they are being dealt with by professional troops. Dismissed."  
  
* * *  
  
A few minutes later the five were suited up and ready for deployment. They stood in the barracks' hangar, dubbed "The Garage" by the troops, and waited for their APC to arrive.  
  
"I'd forgotten how far some of the Nova Squad guys like to have the sticks up their asses," said Higgins.  
  
"Damn. Are we still using the old APCs?" Anton lit a cigarette and inhaled, sitting on an upturned munitions box. "When we ever gonna get those dropships we were promised?"  
  
"They're all being sent to aid the 'professionals'," said Dominic, doing a pretty good impression of the fussy captain.  
  
"So they can fight those big insect alien things," offered Nick.  
  
"Will you shut up about your damn insects?" said Sergeant Higgins.  
  
"Yeah," said Morgan. "You're making Anton scared over here."  
  
The tall, stocky Anton stood up and walked over to Morgan. He towered over his companion by almost a foot. Opening his faceplate, he blew smoke into Morgan's face. "What were you saying, now?"  
  
"Nothing. Nothing at all…man, I must be allergic to you Germans," managed Morgan between coughs.  
  
The doors to the "Garage" opened and in drove the squad's APC. The vehicle was short, squat, and heavily armored, looking a lot like the APCs of the late 20th century. However, it was outfitted with an engine that ran on refined vespene, and had several centimeters of NeoSteel armor plating to protect its passengers. The five marines climbed in the vehicle's passenger compartment and the APC drove off along the deserted streets of the city.  
  
A short while later, they pulled up to their destination. It was already cordoned off by the city's police, yellow plastic tape stretched around the entire perimeter. The five marines got out of the APC and were immediately greeted by the owner, a man with a shock of gray hair and wild, beady eyes who looked like he had just seen a ghost.  
  
"Thank God, thank God," said the man. "I heard something in there that was…" he leaned in close to Higgins, as if he was confiding in him, "not of this world. Please…go in there and, whatever it is, kill it!"  
  
"All right, sir," said Higgins in his most level tone, "we'll take care of it." He moved to the policemen, his rifle slung casually behind his back. "What's with this place?"  
  
"Huh," said one of the officers, lowering his voice. "this guy's a nut. He'll call us if there someone just looks the wrong way at this place. So naturally when there's something going on in there he'll call out the militia."  
  
"Is there a night watchman or something in there?" asked Higgins.  
  
"Yeah, usually, but we didn't see anyone when we got here."  
  
"I bet he brought in his girlfriend and are making some other-worldly noises of their own," said Nick, and the four grunts started chuckling and grinning at the owner, who had wandered off in the distance to stare at something. Suddenly the man shouted and his arm shot up, pointing to one of the warehouse's ground-level air vents.  
  
"Look! There! In the vent!"  
  
Morgan went over to check what it was, and came back with his suit's glove covered in a green goo.  
  
"I think your ventilation systems need some cleaning if that's what they put out," he observed wryly.  
  
The owner glared at Morgan, and wisely, Higgins decided that now was a good time to give the order to go in. The marines and the owner moved to the warehouse's side door, and the owner entered the access code. With a click, the door swung open and revealed the inky blackness of the warehouse's interior.  
  
"All right, boys, let's check this place out."  
  
Anton was the first to enter the warehouse. He took a few steps and switched on his suit's lights. No surprises – industrial tanks and barrels everywhere, along with some lifting machinery and emergency equipment. Feeling along the wall, his hand came in contact with a light switch and he flipped it but nothing happened.  
  
"Lights are dead."  
  
He looked behind him and motioned for everyone to follow him in. Higgins was the last to enter, and as he walked into the building he looked briefly at the owner, who was glancing around nervously.  
  
"Don't worry, sir, we'll figure out what this noise of yours is in no time."  
  
He lowered his faceplate and shut the door behind him.  
  
* * *  
  
Higgins switched on his comm link and tested it out. "All right boys, let's find out what this thing is so we can all go home again. Dom, you and Morgan check the ventilation grid. Nick, you, me, and Anton will check out the warehouse."  
  
"Gotcha, Sarge," crackled Higgins's radio as his squad acknowledged the order. He took the lead as the two marines behind him looked around, light beams shooting up above them, casting huge shadows on the warehouse's walls and roof. The click of the marines' booted feet echoed inside the huge interior, and when Anton sneezed, his two companions jumped and brought up their rifles.  
  
"Jesus, Anton," breathed Nick. "Don't do that."  
  
The marine in question raised his faceplate and out wafted a haze of smoke. "Sorry."  
  
Morgan's voice came over the comm link, and it carried a tinge of nervousness. "Hey, Sarge, the heaters for this place have been smashed all to hell. Jesus…it looks like someone took a knife to 'em…but they're solid steel! Whatever it was, it…oh, shit!"  
  
"Morgan? Morgan!?" Higgins shouted into his comm link. In a heartbeat the three were racing across the floor of the warehouse. Then Higgins' radio came to life again. It was Morgan – the three breathed a sigh of relief.  
  
"Sorry, Sarge…the ventilation shaft caved in on us. One touch and it just…boom. We're okay though."  
  
"All right. You two better come back. We should stick together. Whatever it is, I don't want it catching us in groups."  
  
"Right."  
  
In a few moments, Morgan and Dominic rejoined the group, a little shaken but otherwise unharmed, and they continued their sweep of the warehouse. Preoccupied as they were with looking on top of barrels and machines, they didn't see what was lying on the ground until Dominic got his feet tangled in it and tripped. As he fell over, the other four trained their rifles on the ground until they saw what it was – a discarded rifle. Anton picked it up.  
  
"Looks like the kind that security guards would carry. But it's taken quite a beating," he rumbled, indicating several dents and scratches, and even one part where the barrel was bent a little.  
  
"All right everyone, stay frosty. Looks like we've got something here after all."  
  
The squad moved forward a little more cautiously when all of a sudden something moved just off to the right, behind some barrels, and immediately four gauss rifles began blazing away, despite Higgins' shouted commands.  
  
"Hold your fire! Hold your fire! God damn you, hold your fire!"  
  
After a couple of seconds the squad realized that not only had their commander been yelling at them to stop shooting, but that anything that they had been shooting at would be long dead. The guns fell silent, and Higgins walked up to their target and held it up for a moment before letting it slouch back against the barrels.  
  
"This…is our monster."  
  
It was the body of the night watchman, now riddled with holes from the gauss rifles, but even then it was clear that his body had been mutilated long beforehand – one arm was missing, the belly had been ripped open, and several gashes ran across the body. Nick suddenly doubled over, removed his helmet, and threw up. The others looked away and generally tried to fight the urge to do the same.  
  
"Jesus," said Morgan, "what the hell kind of thing would do that?"  
  
Anton raised his rifle. "I have a feeling we're going to find out."  
  
A few hundred meters behind the Sergeant, several gleaming red eyes materialized out of the darkness. Higgins turned around and slowly backed away towards the group, training his light on the eyes. Ahead of them were two dozen small creatures, no bigger than dogs. Extending from the back of their heads was a large plate, and instead of legs the creatures had two large and dangerous-looking sickle-shaped limbs. Behind them rose a spindly, snake-like creature with two arms that ended in the bone sickles as well, but this one had plates on its upper body that swung open to reveal several rows of spines. It snarled at the marines and began to advance slowly, saliva dripping from its jaws.  
  
"Sarge…would now be a good time to open fire?" inquired Dominic.  
  
Higgins nodded.  
  
The foremost of the smaller creatures died instantly but the rest ran forward at the five marines, while the large one released a wave of its needle spines at the squad. The marines' suits absorbed most of the spines, but Nick, who still had his helmet off, got a face full and fell to the ground, clutching at his eyes. Morgan dropped to a crouch and, with one arm still firing at the oncoming attackers, helped Nick get his helmet back on. Now there were less than a hundred meters between the marines and the small creatures.  
  
"Fall back!" ordered Higgins, helping Morgan carry the wounded Nick back. Vainly Nick tried to train his rifle at the attackers but the blood from his wounds had obscured his vision, but miraculously his eyes had suffered no damage. Anton fired another burst from his Gauss rifle that sent one of the creatures spinning away into a stack of barrels that collapsed onto it. It gave a muted squeal of pain and then fell silent, but there were still several of them advancing very rapidly, as well as their large companion.  
  
"Holy fuck, what are these things?" shouted Dominic.  
  
"I think these are the insect things that Nick was talking about," replied Morgan.  
  
"Just perfect, we're finally fighting these things and I can't see." Nick stood up and grabbed on to Morgan for stability, but another wave of spines sent him back to the ground again, screaming in pain.  
  
"Nick! You all right?" Morgan bent over to check on his friend when one of the small creatures came flying at him and knocked him over, tearing at his armor with its claws. It climbed on to Morgan's helmet and was attacking his face plate when a rifle butt flew in and knocked it off of Morgan. A burst of fire from Higgins's gauss rifle put an end to its life.  
  
"Morgan," said Higgins between rifle shots, "grab Nick and get the hell out of here. We'll keep these things occupied til you get out of here!"  
  
"But…I can't leave you!" protested Morgan.  
  
"Your sentiments are duly noted. Now go! That's an order!"  
  
The sound of the Sergeant's voice told Morgan that he wasn't going to argue the point, and so he grabbed the dead creature and brought Nick to his feet and went as fast as he could to the exit. Behind him he watched as the three marines continued to fall back steadily as the creatures continued their advance when suddenly Morgan was knocked down. Dumbly he stared upwards as he saw another one of the large creatures on top of him. He squeezed his eyes shut and turned his head within his helmet as it opened its carapace plates…and suddenly he heard the sound of something running into it and felt its weight roll off of him. He sat up and saw Nick, minus his helmet, still bleeding from his face, driving his rifle's bayonet into the creature. Morgan grabbed for his rifle and took aim for the creature, but realized that he couldn't get off a shot without running the risk of hitting Nick as well. Soon the problem was fixed as the creature brought up one limb and knocked Nick off of it, and, with an agility that belied its size, slithered upright and launched a volley of spines into Nick's unprotected head. Morgan could see the blood spatter against the floor as the spines drove their way mercilessly through his friend's skull, and he watched in horror as Nick toppled over, dead.  
  
"No! You bastard!" Morgan screamed at the top of his lungs and charged the dead creature, rifle blazing. He dove on top of it and drove his bayonet into the creature's head, gun still firing away, and kept on doing it until the creature's body slumped on top of him, dead.  
  
He ran as fast as he could back to the group, who by now was being circled at a respectable distance by the smaller creatures, all of the antagonists realizing that it would only be a matter of time before the marines ran out of ammunition, while the other, larger creature held back in the shadows, reluctant to engage, perhaps because it saw what had been done to its relative. The odds were not good – there were still six smaller creatures left, along with their larger cousin, and only four marines. Not only that, the creatures had maneuvered themselves between the marines and the door. For the first time Morgan saw the broken armor hanging off of Anton's leg, where the smaller creatures had torn open the suit, and saw the blood leaking from his various wounds.  
  
"Conserve your ammo. Don't fire unless you have to or unless I tell you to," said Higgins, quietly. "Any ideas on getting us out of here, I'd like to hear 'em."  
  
"Sir," ventured Morgan after a short pause, "what if we lured these things into a corner where there's some explosives?"  
  
"Good idea," said Higgins. "Only problem is, who's going to be the guy that stays behind and blows these things up?"  
  
"I will," said Anton between gasps of pain. "I'm a goner anyway, I got...at least a hundred of those thing's needles in me…I can't run for it."  
  
"Are you sure?" asked Higgins.  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"All right." Higgins quickly shone his light on several stockpiles until he found one that he liked – a stack of boxes marked "Nitroglycerine - Flammable." "Walk slowly towards those boxes. When these things get within ten meters, everyone run for the door."  
  
"Except me," added Anton.  
  
"Except you."  
  
The seconds passed by agonizingly slowly as the four marines walked slowly back, their eyes and guns always trained at the creatures. After what felt like an eternity, they reached the flammable boxes.  
  
"Everyone…open fire!"  
  
The four marines opened up, aluminum spikes shredding another of the small things. Enraged, the remainder attacked, including the big snake-like creature.  
  
"Shit! They're coming in way too fast!" shouted Dominic. "100 meters...75...65...60...50!"  
  
"Run for it!"  
  
Higgins, Morgan and Dominic ran for their lives, hearing only the sound of Anton's gauss rifle firing. Then they doubled back and ran through the surprised creatures, knocking a few aside, while Anton kept their attention on himself by firing at them and shouting threats and curses. Suddenly it seemed as if Anton would be overwhelmed, as he dropped to his knees under the weight of four little creatures, but then he surged back up, knocking them off of him with his bare hands, and turned and fired at the stack of crates behind him. The crates exploded in a flash of brilliant white light and a loud crack, coupled with several feral screams of pain from the creatures. The surviving marines covered their eyes, then looked back on the blast zone. The crates had been completely vaporized in the explosion, and the only things left behind were the charred corpses of the creatures, piled over the blackened remains of Anton Muller.  
  
The three marines lowered their heads, then walked out of the warehouse, satisfied that anything that was going to attack them already had.  
  
* * *  
  
The ride back to the barracks was silent, each man mulling over his own thoughts. They were greeted by Captain Fields as they disembarked and he led the survivors to the debriefing room. There the Sergeant retold the entire story, from their arrival to the discovery of the dead watchman, to the deaths of the two other marines. Captain Fields took all of the information in without comment or emotion, then, satisfied that the Sergeant was complete, stood up.  
  
"Sergeant Higgins, Privates Allen and Hyde...what you saw tonight is not to be repeated to anyone. This information is classified as top secret. No one is to know about this incident. Someone will be sent to...deal with the police officers and warehouse owner. Am I making myself clear?"  
  
"Sir, people are going to ask about Private Muller and Private Sewall. What am I to tell them?"  
  
"Tell them…that your men were killed in the explosion caused by the collapse of the ventilation shafts."  
  
Sergeant Higgins stared at the ground in fury and then stood up. "No, Captain Fields, I will not."  
  
"You don't understand, Sergeant, that is an order."  
  
Sergeant Higgins walked over to the Captain. "Those things killed two of my men, Captain. They are dangerous. I have seen enough to convince me that the rumors are true. Why is there an air of secrecy about it? Why hasn't there been a military response? I don't know, but I mean to find out, even if it means I lose everything I have here."  
  
Smiling infuriatingly, Captain Fields pulled a gun and aimed right for Sergeant Higgins' head. Immediately, Dominic and Morgan reached for their own weapons, but Higgins waved them off.  
  
"Perhaps you don't understand me, Sergeant. Now, I am a reasonable man, but even I have my limits. The choices are very simple. You can either leave this room and forget that this night ever happened, or you can leave this room in a body bag. The choice is yours, Sergeant."  
  
The door opened and in stepped a tall, rangy, balding man with a knot of marines in the Sons of Korhal uniform.  
  
"Not so fast there, Mister Fields," said the man in a slight southern drawl. "Allow me to introduce myself. My name's Jim Raynor, and I believe that I am here to relieve you." 


End file.
